


Realizing Fauntlings

by vtforpedro



Series: Concerning Fauntlings [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Oblivious Bilbo, To your left you'll find typical pregnancy symptoms, To your right you'll catch a glimpse of Overly Dramatic Thorin Oakenshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Battle of the Five Armies has ended, Thorin has taken his Mountain back, and Bilbo and he are quite happily promised to each other. Well, Bilbo <i>was</i> happy until a stomach bug ruined his week. Kili pesters. Oin visits and may have an idea why the hobbit is feeling so miserable. He's seen it in plenty of dwarrowdams after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Realizing Fauntlings

Four and a half months after what was now dubbed the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo found himself lying in his great four poster bed, cursing a stomach bug he had caught. Blasted Men. One trip into Dale and he had caught what all of their children seemed to be running around with.

He groaned as he clutched at his stomach, blearily looking toward the night stand and at the cup of water there. He wanted to drink it, he did, but he was rather afraid that it and whatever was left of his stomach contents would rebel and wage war again. The hobbit found his eyes drift to the large vial of oil behind the cup and he felt himself flush, lifting his hand to rub at his face. At least that was one thing he could get a break from because of this.

Not that he didn’t love tumbling into bed with Thorin. It was just that… the dwarf was rather insatiable. He should have realized that would be the case but it wasn’t until Thorin had healed well enough from his battle wounds and Oin declared him ‘fit to return to normal activities,’ that he had really _experienced_ it.

After the first week he had been quite happy when Thorin had ventured into Mirkwood to treat with Thranduil because the elf king refused to step near the ‘accursed’ Mountain anymore. If the dwarf wanted anything, he would go and grovel to him personally in his stuffy tree trunk. According to Thorin, anyway.

It gave him time to rid himself of any soreness by the time his intended had returned and the cycle started again. Bilbo knew that most of it was out of love and want and desire, but he also knew that Thorin had become… enamored with the idea of children. When he would wrap the hobbit up in his arms before sleep, one hand was _always_ on his stomach. It would be there when they bathed and when they dressed or when Bilbo was trying to get some _blasted work done, thank you_. It was as if the dwarf thought his touch could will nature into doing what he wanted. Honestly, Bilbo was surprised it couldn’t at this point.

Thorin was a wonderful king. He was, despite how often he let himself wander away from his duties to seek Bilbo out. His people were prosperous now and at least twice a month caravans arrived, full of dwarves and goods. The dragon stench was gone and Erebor was being rebuilt and restored back to the grand kingdom she was meant to be. It would take some time still, according to builders, before it was completely safe and it could run as it used to.

The king had taken control of the Mountain and his council very shortly after they had won the battles. He was fierce when he needed to be, swift to act when he must, and just when the situation called for it. Bilbo still found himself watching Thorin with awe as he observed him speak in the council chambers. Though that would disappear fairly quickly every time.

Bilbo was working with numerous different dwarves heading many functions of the Mountain - farming, food trading, healing herbs, and sometimes treaties when Thorin asked his opinion. When the first half of the council was called and everyone milled about to speak more individually, Bilbo would take his place by Lords Bragi, Fraeg, and Skuvur and pour over numerous scrolls. Inevitably he would need to take a breath because _dwarves_ , and as he would rub his face or crack his neck and back, he would feel that telltale sign of being watched - the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention and shiver would run down his spine. _Thorin_.

The hobbit, despite himself, would look to the king and see those blue eyes boring into his, no matter where he stood in the room. It always made Bilbo blush, no matter how often it happened, because he knew _exactly_ what Thorin was thinking about. Sometimes he pretended he didn’t and sometimes he took great joy in capitalizing on it.

When Bilbo would roll his eyes to the ceiling and then look at the king in exasperation, Thorin would clench his fists and rub his thumbs roughly over his index fingers and if anyone saw his face, they would assume he was glaring at the hobbit. On those days, Bilbo mourned the fact that he could never slip his ring on without being seen, because he knew exactly who would be snatching him up in the halls as he left.

Somedays Bilbo would stare right back at Thorin and raise his eyebrow in challenge, just to watch him squirm because he was still _king_ and still had to work quite hard at it. If Bilbo happened to have a glass of water, he might make a show of drinking it now and then because watching his intended’s brain practically ooze out of his great big round ears was endlessly amusing. And honestly, sometimes the dwarves _were_ funny enough for his bright laughter to carry loudly enough so that Thorin could hear it. The flush on the dwarf’s neck and pointy nose were worth it, even if he was reduced to a mess of a hobbit that could only communicate in grunts and whines by the time Thorin was done with him hours later.

Bilbo would say things were going rather well. Except the stomach bug of course. Oin had shrugged, given him herbs to help keep his meals down, and told him to drink water and rest. He wasn’t expecting magic but he would have welcomed it nonetheless.

Loud knocks on the door to his bedroom directly sounded and Bilbo groaned loudly, waving his hand in its general direction. “I’m not at home, go away!” he called, voice hoarse from retching just an hour or two ago.

“Uncle Bilbo, that’s just cruel,” a very familiar and _annoying_ voice said as it wandered into his room without permission. “You’ve been alone for hours, surely you could use some wonderful company?”

“If you can find some, Kili, send them my way,” Bilbo muttered into his sweaty pillow. He heard a pained noise and shifted around to glare at Kili as he held a hand to his chest as if wounded.

“That hurts, it really does-“

“Are those biscuits?” Bilbo interrupted without a care, distracted by the basket held in the dwarf’s other hand as he plopped down near the hobbit’s knees.

Kili snorted. “Hobbit cure-all, food is,” he said with a teasing grin before he set the basket closer to him.

Bilbo eyed it wantonly but another wave of nausea was telling him it wouldn’t be the best idea at the moment. “Just leave it and then leave me be, I vomit far too often to be a polite host right now,” he said, rolling completely onto his back and wincing, holding his hands over his ocean of a stomach. “Oh, I’m rather sick of this.”

His soon-to-be nephew snickered as he lay back on both his elbows, nudging Bilbo with one. “Uncle said it wasn’t pleasant. You look like a dwarfling when you’re ill, all pale and sticky, hair everywhere. Glaring _just_ like that, yes, perfect,” he said, pointing at him. “Just add the pouting and we’ll have made a dwarf out of you.”

“I am fairly certain every single person on this good earth who becomes ill looks just like this. I’m sure all of them would not appreciate _your_ company, either.”

“Uncle said you were moody and prone to snap as well,” Kili said solemnly, shaking his head. When he saw Bilbo’s look, he grinned and laughed. “Well, he may have said you weren’t the best of company right now. I’ll be telling everyone the truth of it: moody and prone to snap.”

Bilbo groaned and looked up toward the stone ceiling above him, begging Yavanna for patience. “Did you only come here to tease?” he asked dully, looking back at the brunet.

“Excuse me, but I believe I brought you biscuits as well,” Kili said, grabbing the basket and picking one out for himself, promptly shoving it into his mouth. “And they’re very good. Bombur made ‘em, said his little ones always feel better after a round of them when their stomachs aren’t doing so well. You should try one if you can, Uncle. Anyway, I’m here to check in on you and see if you need anything. Fee wanted to come but Uncle said one of us was enough for his hobbit.”

Said hobbit glowered at the dwarf before he thrust his hand out and Kili grinned, setting a biscuit gently onto his palm. “I’d rather have the other one,” Bilbo muttered as he took a very small nibble of the biscuit.

“Mahal, you really _are_ moody when you’re ill,” Kili said, giving him the stink-eye before he shrugged. “No wonder Uncle is trying to stay as far from here as he can!”

“Your uncle is a sympathy retcher and a coward,” Bilbo declared as he took another bite of his biscuit, testing his stomach. When he looked at the lad next to him, he raised his eyebrows at the gobsmacked look on his face. “What?”

“Uncle… Uncle is squeamish? Really? _Uncle?_ ” he asked, voice hushed and eyes wide.

Bilbo shrugged. “He is with me. Starts gagging all over the place when I’ve got my head in a chamber pot. Pitiful, really. He can handle barrels of fish, a rather large amount of orc blood and guts, and executions even! Nasty business, those, one was quite enough for me. But he sees a hobbit throwing up his innards and he’s _completely_ useless,” he said, all matter-of-fact. Kili was staring at him as if he had given him the most wonderful news of his life.

“I have to tell Fee. Oh and I _have_ to ask Ma, she will tell us if he was like that any other time! I wonder if he’s like that around babes. Can’t you just imagine him dropping Fili on his head if he threw up on him when he was just a wee dwarfling? It would explain a lot, really, it would,” he said with a smile that turned into another laugh as Bilbo rolled his eyes at him. “I wish I could see it. Thorin, I mean, gagging like that. Ori is like that too, remember?”

Bilbo sighed and shook his head. “Yes, I remember quite well, the poor dwarf. Had to be separated from Bofur for a while there. The same with your beloved, _perfect_ uncle,” he said, pointing his biscuit at Kili before he took another cautious bite.

Kili laughed, holding onto his stomach as he lightly rolled on the bed. “Mahal, I am so happy I came to visit you, Uncle Bilbo. You are the best thing to happen to us, you know,” he said with a beaming grin, then promptly hopped up and stretched his arms above his head. “I’m serious, too, the absolute best. Look, I’ll leave you alone for a bit, alright? Do you need anything before I go?”

The hobbit gave him a most unimpressed look, shooing him away. “You want to go gossip about your uncle, you might as well be honest about it. Go on, go. I’m quite alright for now. Thank you for the biscuits,” he said, settling down more into his blankets.

The bothersome dwarf shot him a winning smile and wink before he was off, as fast as he had come. Bilbo grumbled about the attention span of dwarves as he slowly polished off his biscuit, then grabbed his discarded book from where it was half buried in one of the furs covering the bed, beginning to read.

——

Bilbo started as he heard the door to his rooms burst open, widening his eyes as Oin bustled in, holding his healer’s pack. “You could have knocked!” he squeaked, yanking his blankets up to his chest as Oin moved to his bed. The healer gave him an unimpressed look.

“I did knock, lad. You must have been asleep,” he said, a bit loud, and then his large dwarf hand was pawing at Bilbo’s head. The hobbit grumbled but he let him, having learned a few very harsh lessons after brushing the healer off. “No fever.”

“Yes, thank you, I could have told you that myself. I am simply dealing with a terrible case of keep-nothing-down. I’m alright besides that,” he said, ducking Oin’s attempt to look in his blasted ears. “Those are fine, as well!”

“Just as bad as any dwarfling you are, stay still! I will happily tell Thorin you are a horrible patient again, seemed to work last time,” he said, much too loud as he had set his trumpet aside.

Bilbo winced at his words and the volume of them. “Oin, please, I am _fine_. Bit fatigued and ‘moody’ as everyone seems to say, but that’s all of it!” he called before squeaking as Oin yanked his blankets down. Without so much as a by-your-leave he began to prod at Bilbo’s chest and stomach, the hobbit attempting to wriggle away but a wave of nausea stopped him quickly.

“Bit fatigued you say?” he barked into Bilbo’s chest as he pushed into his abdomen, feeling around for Yavanna-knows-what. The hobbit groaned and clamped his hand over his mouth and Oin stopped to eye him. “Going to be sick, lad?”

Bilbo gave a quick shake of his head before correcting it with a nod and Oin handed him the chamber pot placed within reach. And then yes, there went his biscuit, his poor biscuit.

Oin patted him on the back as he finished, helping him rinse his mouth and dry it off. “If you weren’t shoving my insides around I don’t think that would have happened,” he said hoarsely, glaring up at the healer.

Who simply shrugged as he held his trumpet to his ear. “Still have to check, lad, and sometimes it isn’t pleasant. Honestly thought this would have passed by now. When did all of this business start?” he asked, fixing Bilbo with a hard gaze as if he were a tween who might lie about such things.

He sniffed. “A few days ago. Had a persistent headache for a good long while. It made me dizzy at some point and I _may_ have fainted- don’t look at me like that, it’s sadly not very uncommon for me and I didn’t think much of it!” he said hotly as Oin raised a displeased eyebrow at him. “Either way, after a few moments of getting myself back together, I was hit with quite a lot of nausea and I’ve been in bed since.” He shrugged.

Oin continued to scrutinize him and just when Bilbo was starting to squirm, actually _feeling_ like a tween at this point, he harrumphed loudly. “Any other aches and pains before the fainting?” he asked and Bilbo frowned in thought.

“Mmmnope? I don’t think so at least. The headache… oh, well, I had a terrible back ache but, ah, well, I may have taken on a bit more of a perilous hike than I meant to a few days before that, so that’s not surprising,” he said and smiled pleasantly at the very much still not impressed Oin.

“How about your bowels? Normal?” he demanded.

Bilbo cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows to his hairline, pursing his lips together and nodding. Oin narrowed his eyes and he groaned, dropping his head back. “Well, since you’re asking, I was a bit, ah… you know,” he said, motioning with his hand.

“I suspect I don’t know as this-“ he gestured in the air as Bilbo had “-could be a many number of things. Spit it out,” Oin said, one hand on his hip in a startlingly white-knuckled grip.

“Alright, alright, I’ve been a bit constipated. I simply increased my water intake and that seems to have cleared itself up,” Bilbo said with a huff. “Besides, this was all a few days before this horrid nausea started.”

Oin eyed him critically, looking from the top of his head to where his blankets covered over his large feet. “Are you always unpleasant when you’re ill?” he asked without preamble and Bilbo blushed.

“I am hardly _unpleasant_ , thank you, that’s just rude. No one enjoys feeling ill and I think I have the right to be a bit put out by it! So, _yes_ , I would say whenever I’m ill, I’m not overly happy about it,” he snapped grumpily, slumping further down into the bed.

“Were you a _bit put out_ before you were ill? I can ask Thorin if you aren’t sure,” Oin said with a shrug.

Bilbo scoffed. “I don’t appreciate the insinuation there, thank you. Thorin hasn’t been around often enough for any spats either way,” he said, glaring up at Oin for these ridiculously personal questions. Healer or not!

Said healer narrowed his eyes at him. “Thorin has been holed up in Balin’s study, working on all that rubbish that comes with running a kingdom. Does he not normally do that here?” he asked, gesturing toward the door and into the living area of their rooms.

The hobbit shrugged, furrowing his brow and wondering why in Eru’s name it was important. “Yes, most times he does, but sometimes he needs Balin’s counsel. Why?” he asked, eyeing Oin suspiciously.

“Aye, that may be true, but he doesn’t need his counsel for well over a week. We all thought you two must be arguing something fierce, especially with the way he storms around Erebor these days. Are you certain there has been nothing going on that’s different than normal?”

Bilbo gaped at him, mouth opening and closing. _Surely_ Thorin was not in such a terrible mood? He would have seen it! Maybe the king had been a bit quiet of late, but he slipped in and out of that habit fairly often. “I… well, I-I don’t… Thorin hasn’t been overly chatty here, either, but given who we are talking about, that’s not entirely unusual,” he said with a frown, attempting to think back on the last week or so. _Had_ anything been different?

Oin was quiet as the hobbit thought it through.

_“If you put things where they were supposed to go, we wouldn’t have this problem, would we-“_

_“Perhaps if you listened now and then this sort of thing wouldn’t-“_

_“You are thinking too loudly, Thorin, and it is giving me a headache-“_

_“Perhaps if you just pulled your head out of your hairy rear end-“_

Bilbo looked quickly up at Oin and cleared his throat, shrugging his shoulders. “We may have been a bit short with each other,” he allowed before sighing as he received an arched eyebrow in return. “ _I_ may have been a bit short with him lately. Suppose I didn’t notice it, I must be more stressed than I thought. Goodness, I’ll have quite an apology ready for him when he shows this evening!” He frowned to himself, grabbing a pillow and gently clutching it to his chest.

The hobbit normally noticed when he was being unfairly short and was quick to apologize for it. It was odd that he hadn’t even noticed he was doing it. No wonder Thorin was brooding and the Company would most definitely notice, having gotten rather intimate with the king’s moods on their quest. And now he felt like horse dung! If he wouldn’t vomit everywhere, he would go straight to Thorin and apologize.

“Bilbo,” Oin began and quickly snared his attention by how delicately he said his name, “You do remember the herbs I have been supplying you with regularly?”

“Of course I do, Thorin wasn’t exactly subtle in gifting them to me the first time. It would have been immensely more simple had he brought me along to speak with you about such things rather than sneaking them in here,” the hobbit said with a roll of his eyes. “You’d think he would realize by now I’m rather well versed in things that grow.”

Oin gave a pointed sigh and Bilbo gestured at him to go on as he cleared his throat in apology. “And do you remember their purpose?” he asked, raising a brow and inclining his head toward the hobbit.

Bilbo frowned. “Well yes, of course I do, what-“ he cut himself off as his throat suddenly went quite dry and his stomach churned threateningly. His heart made a quick drop into it before shooting straight into his throat and he looked at the healer with wide eyes. “It can’t be.”

“I believe we’ve been doing our best to _make_ it so it can be, lad, don’t be so surprised if it _is_ ,” Oin said, shaking his head as if he were running low on patience. “Now, normally this is a bit different with dwarrowdams for many obvious reasons, so I must defer to you on this matter. Is there a way to confirm it with male hobbits?”

Said male hobbit swayed, his vision swimming as he attempted to wrap his head around the question. He was warring with what if’s and trying to give Oin the information he was seeking.

“Ah, um… w-well, I don’t- maybe? Just, just give me a moment, please,” Bilbo muttered and blindly reached for his water glass. Oin shoved it into his hands for him and he took a careful gulp.

Bilbo ran through what he knew of how all this worked, of what he had been taught, and lightly nodded his head a moment later. “Yes there are a few ways, from what I recall. Mint, for one. Waiting for, ah, _obvious_ changes is another, of course. Back pain can be very indicative of those,” he said, gulping. “Hip and thigh, as well. And a certain food craving.”

“Mint, you say? Food cravings seem to be a trait our races have in common,” Oin began and frowned when Bilbo waved him off.

“No no, a very specific food craving. Us hobbits all, ah, crave the very same thing when we are… yes,” he said, motioning down and over himself.

“And that is?” Oin asked impatiently, scowling at him. Patience of dwarves.

“That would be… lemons. Do not ask me why! I haven’t any idea, I simply know we all become gluttons for lemons and will retch at the first sign of mint,” Bilbo rushed, waving his hands around, face flushing.

Oin smirked a bit at him this time and shook his head. “And? Have you had such a craving for lemons?” he asked pointedly. Bilbo groaned, covering his eyes with one hand and thrusting his other toward the corner of the room, to a small table between two large bookshelves. A nice bowl of lemons was sitting innocently there, a few cut in half for the smell, the rest for doing whatever else he so desired with.

Thorin had been utterly confused but had obliged the request either way.

The healer began to bark with laughter and smacked Bilbo’s shoulder with so much force he toppled over and came back up with a scowl. “Oh, sorry, laddie. Hobbits! It’s good we only have one of you - at the moment at least - I’d have no idea what to do with more of you all otherwise. And mint makes you ill? Well, I suppose we’ll have to get a few sprigs and see,” he said, grinning at him before he turned and began to move with more purpose than Bilbo had seen in him in a while.

The hobbit gaped after him before he whined to himself, glancing at the chamber pot and lamenting that he would more than likely be using it again when Oin came back with a bundle of mint leaves.

——

Bilbo had been switching between denial and elation for the next three days, the former paralyzing him in fear whenever he thought to tell Thorin. What if he was wrong? He couldn’t get the dwarf’s hopes up for nothing, it would break his heart.

But then there was the business with the lemons and mint, as every hobbit lad and lass complained about when first… carrying. That one was a bit hard to deny, but Bilbo did it anyway.

At other times, he would find himself slumping into the nearest chair as his heart threatened to burst from his chest and cause a ruckus. Fauntlings. Dwarflings. Dwobbits, as Thorin and he had come up with one night in bed, snickering with each other as if they were the two most clever beings in all of Middle Earth.

The thought made him feel as if he might float away and joy was constantly thrumming just under his skin. It was apparently obvious when he was in that mood as Fili had informed him he was rather worrying everyone by his manic grin during dinner two nights before. They had all looked a bit confused when he thought about it. Then denial had kicked in again and he’d forgotten all about it.

But, as he watched the third sun since Oin and he had had their little discussion, he found himself unable to stay still. Thorin needed to know and he needed to stop being a coward.

So, Bilbo found himself stomping to the door to their rooms, opening it and stepping into the hall, glancing toward the guards at the end of it. Ever loyal. “Please inform the king that there is an urgent matter he must attend to here,” he called. One of the guards started before pausing, looking at the dwarf at his side. Bilbo scowled.

“Go to your king and inform him his future consort is experiencing an emergency and needs his aid immediately, please and thank you!”

Once he heard the thumping boots of one of the dwarves fade away, he moved back into his rooms with a satisfied nod, and calmly went to the kettle he had prepared. He poured himself a cup of tea, moved to his armchair in front of the fireplace, put up his feet on the small table in front of it and waited.

It felt as if it took ages before he heard the pounding of panicked boots in the hall, though he knew it was likely less than ten minutes. He was entirely prepared for it but it still made him jump when the door burst open and Thorin stumbled in, fur lined coat billowing behind him.

“Bilbo!” he called before his eyes settled on his hobbit and he immediately moved to his chair. “Bilbo, what- what is the matter? I was told there was an emergency. Are you well?”

The hobbit watched Thorin pant, eyeing the sweat on his brow with interest before he nodded with a small hum. “Yes, that is what I told them, but it’s not _really_ an emergency,” he said simply and watched the dwarf’s face morph from worry, to confusion, and finally to annoyance.

“You cannot summon me with the call of an emergency if there isn’t one, half the Mountain will have been shut down at this point!” he barked, but he was still sweeping his gaze up and down Bilbo, looking for any signs of distress. “Why would you do such a thing?”

Bilbo smiled at him and motioned his head at the other armchair. “Can you please sit, Thorin? It may not be an emergency, but it’s important,” he said politely.

The king stared at him as if he had lost his sanity and carefully backed away, using his hand to locate the chair and sit, not taking his eyes off Bilbo. “You are worrying me, hobbit. Explain yourself,” he ordered. Said hobbit arched a brow at him and Thorin growled.

“Bilbo. Please tell me why you have summoned me here this way. I feared the worst, even if my guards said you looked most unharmed and only like yourself.”

Bilbo did genuinely wince at that. “Oh, I was rather hoping that fact would make you _not_ fear for my safety. I’m quite alright, sorry for causing panic. But I am rather panicked myself and figured it was about time you join me in it,” he said, sipping at his tea before he set the cup aside.

Thorin looked worried again. “Why are you panicking, _ghivashel_?” he asked, leaning forward in the armchair and stretching his hand out to rest over Bilbo’s ankle. Ever so sweet.

“Do you remember that thing I told you about in Lake-town and that we have been discussing the past five months?” he asked. Thorin stiffened, his hand tightening ever so slightly, gaze very steady.

“Yes,” he said lowly, tone cautious.

Bilbo took in a deep breath and held it as he watched those blue eyes, a mixture of worry, fear, and the faintest bit of hope filtering through. He let out a gusty sigh and cleared his throat. “Well, I’m happy to inform you that our efforts have not been in vain and we are, ah… expecting?” he ventured. Sweet _Yavanna_ , when his cousins informed him of their pregnancies, they were always squealing and crying. He’d prepared himself to tell Thorin, but not _how_ he should.

Thorin’s jaw lowered and his eyes widened momentarily before he dipped his head to read his hobbit. “You are sure? This is not a joke?” he asked and Bilbo scoffed.

“A _joke?_ No! I may have called you here on a fake emergency but I never would _joke_ about such a thing, thank you. Oin and I are absolutely certain at this point. And deciding such a thing was a nasty business, I’ll have you know. But yes, we are sure. You and I are going to be, ah… parents. Yes, parents,” he finished in a whisper, saying the words aloud truly bringing to light the realness of it all. He sniffed, nose twitching. “Fathers, we’re going to be fathers, Thorin.”

He watched his dwarf stare dumbly at him and after a moment when he noticed he wasn’t _breathing_ , he stood carefully from his chair. “Thorin?” he asked in worry, frowning as he took a step closer. He started when Thorin let out a loud, _pained_ noise and moved forward quite suddenly.

Bilbo was momentarily alarmed that he might have been the cause for _Thorin_ to faint as the dwarf sunk down onto his knees in front of him, but when he brought his eyes to Bilbo’s, he saw how completely _wrecked_ he looked.

“ _Bilbo_ …” his ridiculous dwarf whispered, blue eyes swimming and arms reaching forward to grab his legs, pulling him closer. “Bilbo, you… we are…” Thorin looked at his stomach as if it would surely tell him before he leaned in and pressed his forehead there, another entirely endearing noise tearing through his throat.

The hobbit cleared his own throat, telling himself tears could happen in a few moments, Thorin clearly needed him right then. He wrapped his arms around the dwarf’s head, holding him against his belly and listening to his shaky breathing. He grinned a little to himself, then laughed as that elation finally swept away any denial and utter _happiness_ rushed through his body.

“Yes, Thorin, we certainly are,” he said, tugging gently at the dwarf’s hair so he could look at him. _Oh my_ , Thorin was handsome in _everything_ he did but tears pooling in his eyes were breaking Bilbo’s poor little hobbit heart. His dwarf looked quite beautiful. He brought his hands to Thorin’s cheeks, brushing his thumbs gently under his eyes before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his brow. “Yes, you complete oaf, we are.”

And really, he should have been prepared for the sudden, booming laughter as Thorin grabbed him under his rear and lifted him into the air with a spin, but he still yelped in surprise. And after that, well, it was all a bit of a blur.

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you asked for a sequel and this is what came out of that rather unexpectedly. D: Forgive me.


End file.
